woods she could see four or five men and women in uniform moving, sometimes lurching, through the trees and underbrush along the riverbank. That was clearly where Trevor’s body had been found. It was horrible to think of him lying along the water’s edge for months as his friends and family—and of course Lily—frantically wondered where he was.
Phoebe glanced back at the crowd and let her eyes roam over the faces. There seemed to be a mix of townspeople and students, in addition to the cyclists, who must have just stumbled onto the scene. And then suddenly she spotted Hutch at the far end of the crowd, dressed in baggy pants and a heavy black-and-red lumberjack-style jacket. Considering how much he clearly missed the action, it wasn’t a surprise to see him here.
“Hey, Hutch, hello,” Phoebe said after wandering over to him. His expression had been solemn, but as soon as he turned and recognized Phoebe, his face relaxed into a smile.
“Professor Hall, good morning.”
“Phoebe, please.”
“Okay, Phoebe it is. So you came to check out the scene. Grim business, isn’t it?”
“Yes—things seem to be going from bad to worse,” Phoebe said. She gazed back through the woods at the cops stepping clunkily through the brush. “How did the cops discover him, do you know?”
“I talked to an old buddy of mine on the force, and he told me that they were hunting for a sweater the girl had worn, hoping to find where she went in. They found the sweater here, then the boy.”
Phoebe gasped. “So they died at the same spot. The cops must be thinking serial killer,” Phoebe said.
“Not necessarily. Since these two were boyfriend and girlfriend, they might have gotten into something over their heads—something that caught up with them at different times.”
“You mean something like drugs?” Phoebe said. She’d never considered anything like that.
“Could be,” said Hutch. “We’ve got a problem around here with that stuff. Marijuana, OxyContin going for eighty dollars a pill, and even heroin.”
“But just to play devil’s advocate, what if the deaths are part of a larger pattern?” Phoebe asked. “You mentioned the other day that a year and half was too long of a cooling-off period for a serial killer, but now we’re looking at four incidents spaced no more than six months apart.”
“If you count Wesley Hines.”
“Right. By the way, after you gave me Wesley’s name, I found out he lives near here, and I paid him a visit. He’s still saying someone drugged him and tossed him into the river that night. I suppose he could be a pathological liar, but he seemed genuinely upset to me.”
Hutch shook his head slowly, as if both doubtful and yet deliberating what she’d said.
“I took notes during my conversation with him yesterday and made a copy for you,” Phoebe added. “I was going to drop them off at your place later.” She fished the notes out of her bag and offered them to him.
“I’ll take a look,” he said, accepting the pages and tucking them into the breast pocket of his jacket. “You know, I’m going to feel like hell if I completely misjudged the situation with that boy back then. It happened just around the time I was being forced out. Maybe I was too distracted to see the situation clearly.”
Phoebe felt a rush of sadness, thinking of Hutch at that moment in his life. With his wife dead, work was all he had. And how honorable of him to acknowledge now that he might have been wrong. She couldn’t imagine Craig Ball admitting to as much as misdialing a phone number.
“One thing I know from writing biographies is that things often only make sense in context,” Phoebe said. “I included other notes in there, too. Yesterday I talked to a girl who’d been victimized by the Sixes, and she told me they’ve done their share of tormenting students here. I keep wondering if
Hutch whistled through his teeth. “I haven’t stopped thinking about what they did with the rats. You get kids in a group, and things can definitely escalate.”
She then told him about the little horror show at her house last night.
“I don’t think I like the way this has been handled,” he said, looking sincerely worried. “I’m concerned about your safety.”
“I’m calling the locksmith for extra security as soon as they open,” she promised. “And I’m staying with a friend tonight.”
There was some movement down by the woods, and instinctively Phoebe and Hutch turned their heads in unison. Phoebe’s heart sank a little at what she saw. Pete Tobias was now standing toward the front of the crowd, talking to two guys who looked like Lyle students. There was something downright feral about him—he always had his nose in the air, hyper alert—and she knew he’d soon turn and scan the crowd with those beady black eyes. If he noticed her here, he’d try to make something of it.
“I’d better get up to campus, Hutch,” Phoebe said. “Call me after you read the notes, okay? I’d love your take on them.”
“I will,” he said. “And Phoebe . . . please be careful?”
After saying good-bye, Phoebe turned quickly and hurried away, hoping Tobias hadn’t spotted her.
She drove to campus next and went directly to the library. She spent the next few hours prepping for class on Monday. As soon as she thought they’d be open, she called the locksmith and arranged for someone to come by her house that day and install better window locks.
As she headed home later to meet the locksmith, she was struck by how electrically charged the campus seemed. People—faculty as well as students—were clustered in knots, talking, their faces pinched in concern. It was clear the news about Trevor had spread all over by now, and people were not only sharing whatever they’d heard but also probably speculating wildly. Passing a cluster of four girls, Phoebe heard one of them suggest that Trevor and Lily had made some kind of suicide pact, but that Lily had taken longer to fulfill her end of the bargain.
Right outside the western gate to the campus, things seemed just as crazy. There were five or six Winnebagos belonging to various news outlets, all with satellite dishes on top. Phoebe imagined that there were more like those positioned at the other gates.
The locksmith was pulling up in his van just as she arrived home. It was the same guy as before. When he was done, he walked her from window to window, showing off the special locks he’d installed.
“It’s tight as a drum in here now,” he said, flicking his lank hair out of his face. After he left, she told herself that unless the Sixes arrived with glass cutters, she was truly safe. And yet her body felt weighed down with worry.
At five o’clock she freshened up, applied makeup, and changed into jeans, a black cashmere sweater with a V neckline, and her tight suede boots. The anxiety she’d felt all day seemed to seep away, replaced by a growing sense of anticipation. She was looking forward to the evening, more than she would have ever expected. Knowing she’d be spending the night at Duncan’s, she stuck her toothbrush and clean underwear in her bag.
She walked to campus this time, assuming they’d take Duncan’s car to his place. After heading through the western gate, she followed the path toward the quad. Some of the excitement she’d noticed all around her this morning appeared to have simmered down. As she passed Curry Hall, the dorm where Lily had lived, she paused momentarily. I have to know what happened to you, Lily, Phoebe thought. She couldn’t abandon her the way she herself had been abandoned so many years before.
Rounding the dorm, Phoebe spotted Craig Ball at the edge of a small parking lot that abutted the building. He was talking intensely to a male student dressed in a green Philadelphia Eagles sweatshirt. Was he interviewing a friend of Trevor’s? Phoebe wondered. She would have liked to ask Ball if he’d talked to the cops yet about her situation, but it clearly wasn’t the right moment.
She crossed the quad and swung left onto a path that would take her to the north side of campus. Soon the Grove, the wooded area at the northern end of campus, appeared on her left. Bright orange and yellow leaves still covered the lower branches of the trees, and there was a thick, lush blanket of them on the ground as well. On any other day it might have looked like a storybook forest, but to Phoebe it held no charm today.
Before long she could see the top of the science building peering above a cluster of tall maples. It was just around the next bend. She picked up her speed a little, anxious to arrive. As she walked, the ground lights along the path popped on, momentarily diverting her attention. When she looked up again, she saw two female students emerge from the other side of the bend, one in a black coat, and the other, a redhead, in a fake fur vest over a sweatshirt. It took Phoebe a few seconds to realize that it was Blair and Gwen. Her stomach flipped over as soon as
